Epidemic
by The Boisterous Anomaly
Summary: Everything changes when The Doctor receives a message from his near future. A message in which a familiar face appears. Now he, Amy, Rory, and some old friends must stop the Epidemic or become its latest victims.
1. Prologue

The streets of London were silent, not a soul walked about them. The air was cripplingly cold and disgustingly stale. As it blew in gusts across the glittering wet pavement, the stench of death floated by and permeated everything in its path. Flickering street signs of empty stores and restaurants screamed with bright colors. Dim streetlamps loomed overhead, reflecting even more dimly on the large white posters nailed across walls, taped to windows. All of them repeating the same message:

"_**STAY HOME. STAY CLEAN. STAY ALIVE.**_"

A young woman walked down these streets. She gripped her jacket close to her shivering figure, her boots clicking on the sidewalk. Her free hand held a large paper grocery bag filled to the brim with her mid-week groceries and medications. Hanging on her wrist was a plastic bag containing tonight's dinner of Indian food that was emanating some warmth to her person.

"Yeah, I'm on my way home right now…. Right… Gotcha… You too." Her thick London-accented voice muttered through a white medical mask into her Blue Tooth headset. Her finger tapped the button and she hung up her end of the line. Her hand slipped into her pocket and she pulled out her cell phone to check the time. It was 6:34 pm. She took a short cut and passed through an alleyway, past a few yards of garages and headed up to her tiny flat at the corner of the street. Her maroon-veneered nails tapped against the touch screen of her phone, checking texts from her few co-workers at the shop, and from her workaholic boyfriend who let her know that he had to meet with his supervisor, _again_. Slipping her phone back into her pocket, the woman grabbed her keys and made her way up the steps of the entrance.

After greeting a neighbor passing by, Rose Tyler faced the elevator, mashing her thumb to the button. It was a tricky one that button. Normally, it had to be twisted anti-clockwise about three times, then pressed very hard to get anything moving. That also depended on whether the elevator wanted to work that day.

Today wasn't one of those days.

The blonde woman groaned and made her way towards the extremely claustrophobic staircases. After risking her life on those stairs, she strode down the quiet hallway and to her door. She pushed her key into the sticky lock and opened the old door, causing the number 8 to tilt to the right again. Rose rolled her brown eyes and fixed it before pushing her way through to the small kitchen counter, then setting her bags down. She removed her medical mask and took in a long breath of the air of her home. Turning around and hanging her black coat on the wall, she thought of how this place seemed to be the safest place in her world right now. Since the epidemic began a few months ago, nothing has been the same.

The case of mass paranoia was almost as dangerous as the epidemic itself.

Rose ran a hand through her long blonde waves as she grabbed a bowl and began to scoop her portion of curry and rice into it. She then reached into the paper bag again and grabbed her three bottles of medications, mixing her cocktail of prescriptions. Better safe than sorry, besides, Ian did a double check on them to make sure they were good. Now was the time she let her mind wander.

She thought of that man, going by the name of Ian Noble Smith, who has been living with her for nearly two years and working harder than she's ever seen him do before. Yet he has made barely any money at all. He was doing it all for her, as if he was trying to prove his worth. She thought of the long hours he spends away working three jobs. Getting a good job was harder than he thought. Despite his 900 years of knowledge and expertise on seemingly infinite subjects, not one university would glance at his applications for professor of Astrophysics, Chemistry, Computer Engineering, Astronomy, or History. He was still optimistic though, saying that they were 'almost there'.

Hope seemed bleak from the viewpoints of others, but not to Ian. They had barely anything leftover after paying rent, with his three menial jobs of tech support, selling washing machines and refrigerators, and packaging hardware at the factory and her managing the shop. He still planned what their wealthy future would look like. His dreaming was difficult, of course, when they lived in a cramped apartment and practically lived off of instant noodles. Today's Indian was a treat.

Rose had finished about half of her dinner, when she heard the door in the entryway screech open then shut again. Slow and dragging footsteps sounded on the wooden floor and quiet swears were muttered under breath. The young woman looked up and caught sight of the tall, slender man. His large brown eyes looked darker than normal behind his smart spectacles and after he removed his medical mask, she caught his lips bent into a frown. He dropped his bag on the floor by the couch and he strode silently to the counter, grabbed the Indian food in the foam box and plopped down at the table.

"You're home early, what happened at work? What'd Phil want?" Rose inquired.

Ian remained silent. He got back up to grab his flatbread and a fork and returned to his spot, proceeding to attack his dinner hungrily.

"Ian. What happened?" Rose repeated more seriously. This was one thing that started to really annoy her: Ian's silent treatments. She reached out and touched his forearm, feeling him tense up. After much hesitation, his shoulders slumped and he let his fork hit the table top with a clatter. He reached into his pocket, pulled out, and slid the pink piece of paper in her direction.

"I got cut from the factory." He said, placing a hand on his forehead, trying to rub away the headache. Almost a thousand years of near-death experiences, making life-altering choices every day, yet here he was, so distressed over losing a job. It was almost unbearable to look at him. Rose reached out and took his free hand in hers.

"You know, I'd say that this was a good thing. Now you have free—"

"Rose, I just lost my highest paying job, how can you call that good? How are we going to pay rent now? And how can I—" Ian interrupted almost angrily.

"Ian, we can manage. Mum and Dad are more than happy to help if we need it. We can get by." She said calmly, hoping he would do the same.

Ian grasped the foam box and fork, got up and strode to his studio room on the far side of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Ian flipped on the light switch, blasting cold white light over his mess of artist supplies. Sketches upon sketches littered every horizontal surface in the room. This room was where he spent what little free time he had. He felt this was a better hobby than tinkering with all the appliances in the apartment. He threw his food on top of the drawing table in the corner and unbuttoned his constricting shirt. After grabbing his charcoal and pad of paper, he began to scribble furiously onto the white surface. His headache had returned again, making it difficult to focus on his sketch, not that he really focused on it anyway. His hand darted in every direction on the page without stopping. No thinking, just lines. His fingers and wrists became sore. His shoulder burned. He finally sat back, wiping his forehead with the back of his blackened hand.

Ian then stood up and stretched, reaching for his food and gobbling it all down. He reached into his miniature refrigerator and pulled out a beer, opening it with a loud pop. Leaning against the light table behind him, he studied at the scribbles he had just made. Despite the mess, there seemed to be something forming from it.

He narrowed his eyes at it. There _was_ something forming from his scribbles. After taking a long gulp from the cold bottle, he stepped forward, grabbed the eraser that sat in his tackle box of supplies, and began to clear away some of the messy lines. A face began to appear. Picking up on this idea, Ian began to drag his charcoal across the paper again. He shaped eyes, a nose, lips, cheekbones and hair. Lots of hair.

The half-time-lord finally stood back and stared his work. Upon the flat surface of his sketchpad, the portrait of a man stared back at him. The man was young, with high cheekbones and a square jaw. His bright eyes sat hidden behind a low brow; his nose was unbelievably straight, and his lips thin. The most distinctive part of this man's face was his dark, floppy hair. He seemed so life-like, as if the page was just a mere window into his world. Ian shook his head as he looked over at the sketches of this same young man lying all over his desk. But, this man was only a figment of his imagination, nothing more. Ian heard a soft knock on the door behind him.

"Can I come in?" Roses' voice asked softly.

"Yeah." He answered, then taking another sip of his beer.

Rose quickly slipped in, taking notice of her boyfriend's newest work. It was of that mystery man again. This had been a recurring subject in his artwork. It had been for a couple of years. Ian used to draw so many things, animals and plants, children; she had even modeled for some of his work from time to time. All of it was superbly crafted. Ian must have learned from Da Vinci back in the day. But now it was only this mystery man. He began as a simple sketch, but over time, Ian fleshed him out and gave him life. Rose looked at the other sketches around her. There was another drawing of the mystery man sitting in an invisible chair, one leg crossed over the other in a very posh manner. One arm wrapped around his middle and the other elbow rested atop of it, his expression smug. She looked up and saw another drawing of the man, his back turned away and a hand raised, fingers running through that hair and the other hand in his pocket.

"It's him again." Rose remarked.

"He's missing something…" Ian added after a beat or two. He bent forward and sketched out his neck and shoulders. On top of that he formed the collar of a button-up shirt and what looked like a textured jacket.

And a bowtie.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Sorry for that odd and somewhat random couple of updates. Technical difficulty! Here's the REAL thing! I'm sorry for keeping you all waiting. With school starting back up again, these waits might be a little longer... Anyway, thank you for the reviews! Keep them up! :) I'll be posting as soon as I can, though, bear with me. xD

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything...

What was he thinking? The Doctor tipped his pith helmet down and examined the nearby tree, his knobby fingers tracing deep gash marks in the wood. He shouldn't have brought the Ponds. Amy complained loudly, and quite obnoxiously while Rory was having too much fun with the machete that he gave him. The thousand-year-old Time Lord rubbed his face tiredly. He must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed today. If he wasn't so bleeding bored. If he hadn't decided to go snooping for trouble and maybe take a quiet walk around Paris in 1923 instead, he just might have left the Ponds at home. But he doesn't run like that; there has to be someone to explain things to. Without them, he'd look like a madman… He stopped after that thought, shaking his head slowly and with a smirk on his young face.

So here they are in the jungles of Alcasar 4, searching for the rare Kyrflax bird and help the locals collect its feathers for their centennial fertility celebration. The Doctor figured he'd give another try at the Kyrflax call. His blue-green eyes glanced down at the little didgeridoo-like instrument in his hand and gave it a good blow. It was funny the way Rory described it, 'A warped Beatles CD played through a wind tunnel.'

"Oi, Doctor! Would you quit it already? I'm getting a headache!" the Scottish ginger yelled as she pushed past her husband.

"Not until we find this Kyrflax bird." The Time Lord said, pushing a branch out of his way, then letting it go. Amy ducked, but Rory had missed the cue and the branch smacked him in the face with a loud _'THWAP!'_

"…Ow…" the stunned young man said, checking his nose for blood.

The Doctor stopped, his eyes and ears searching for any trace of anything bird-like. Unfortunately, there was nothing.

"Hmmm… Maybe if I play just a bit louder…" he muttered, licking his lips and taking in a deep breath. Then with all his might, he blasted a loud screeching pitch, causing the humans behind him to cover their ears and complain.

"Was that really necessary, Doctor?" Rory whined, turning to his left and chopping down the first branch he saw. Amy blinked and stuck a finger in her ear, and wiggled it around, hoping to clear out the temporary deafness, then proceeded to complain that she just might lose her hearing all together one day.

The Doctor turned around, tipping back his pith helmet. "If we want to find that bird, then yes. It _is_ necessary." He immediately spun on his heel and began to play again, but in a few short moments, he ceased again. His super-duper-Time-Lord-ears must have picked up something. But it wasn't too long until Amy and Rory heard it too: rumbling.

The mossy ground beneath them quivered. Whatever was coming was big, and coming fast.

The youthful looking Doctor threw himself down and put his ear to the dirt and moss, listening.

"Hmmm…" his voice seeming to agree with the thoughts that ticked away in his mind. Once he jumped up, Amy looked at him, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"What is it? What do you hear?" she asked, scanning his expression. The rumbling grew louder, and the ground shook even more.

"Oh nothing, just a wild stampede of Anklo-rthinocerotidae coming our way. RUN!" he yelled, gripping his hat tightly and shoving the two humans forward.

"Ankle-what?" Rory yelled, running wildly and swinging his machete in the same fashion.

"Anklo-rthinocerotidae! Or as the natives call it, 'Chuxdoriya'!" the Time Lord explained, quickly catching up, then passing his humans. Both found it difficult to keep up.

"I heard rhino in there somewhere. So basically, space rhinos?" Amy cried, leaping over a large fallen branch.

"At the moment, I REALLY don't care what you call them! Just RUN!" he yelled back, picking up speed. The trio ran as fast as they could, with the Doctor leading the way. Amy dared to look back and screamed. The space rhinos caught up quickly. She guessed they were at least three meters tall and weighed as much as a bulldozer. Their loud snorts and growls meshed with the crunch of trees and branches as they fell to the ground and were crushed by massive rhino feet. What terrified her more was the thought of their large horns protruding from their snouts mauling them. Bad imagery. The Scottish girl looked back to where she was running, adrenaline kicking in and boosting her speed. The rumbling was deafening.

"Don't look back, Rory!" she warned, passing her husband quickly. She couldn't help but chuckle slightly as she heard him yelp and match her speed.

The TARDIS was finally in sight. Safety soon. The Doctor whipped out his trusty Sonic and flicked it like a wand in the direction of the door.

"Not my TARDIS, not my TARDIS, not _my_ TARDIS!" he repeated, leaping through the door and heading straight for the console. Rory shut the door behind them, the rhino stampede getting dangerously close.

"NOT MY TARDIS, NOT MY TARDIS, NOT MY TARDIS…" his volume increased as the thundering did. He danced around the console, flicking, mashing, and tapping away at it. The central mechanism began to rise and fall. The TARDIS awoke and groaned. Suddenly, the trio was knocked to the ground as the stampede collided with the space ship. The pilot let out a curse or two as he clambered up to the console again.

"My TARDIS!" he whined, straightening the ship out again. The roar of the stampede faded and the trio was able to relax again. "They trampled my poor TARDIS!" The distressed Time Lord quickly expanded the oxygen field and shuffled over to the doors, flinging one open and examining the other. His jaw dropped at the sight of a four-centimeter slash just next to the 'St. Andrew's Ambulance' label. A quiet whimper escaped his lips as his fingers ran over the mark, hoping it was just his eyes playing with him. Nope.

"Th-They scratched my TARDIS…" He whimpered a bit louder this time. He heard a begrudging foot stomp onto the metal floor. Judging by it's quick, light sound, it was Amy's foot.

"We barely made it alive from those rampant space rhinos and you're worried about a bleedin' scratch! Typical, TYPICAL Doctor. I'm showerin'." She grumbled turning quickly towards the stairs up to the hallway. Suddenly a high-pitched beeping sound echoed through he console room, _'dit-dit-dit-dit…dit-dit-dit-dit'_.

"Umm, Doctor, what is that?" Rory asked, dropping his backpack on the couch and stepping closer to the control panel, ears searching for where that sound was coming from. The Doctor turned around and shut the door. He knew that pattern of tones… Striding to the console, he swung the screen in their direction.

"I can't tell what it is just yet," he cranked a lever and flipped a few switches, "It's heavily encoded in-…" he dropped his sentence off as he realized what kind of encoding it was. It was an ancient type of pattern, allowing messages to be sent between dimensions. A Time Lord sent this.

"The Time Vortex has certainly done a number on whatever it is. If I could just smooth out the distortion in the astrotemporal graphics transmitter…." After a bit of tweaking, something seemed to fizzle through onto the screen.

"Why, Rory, it seems to me that I have a message." He said with a smile.

Appearing on the screen was none other than The Doctor himself, only he looked filthy and scruffy. The image fizzled in and out of picture occasionally, but it was most assuredly him. His face was pale, and circles darkened his eyes. Large and festering blisters had formed on his face, and his thin lips were dry and chapped.

"Isn't _this_ interesting…?" the Doctor commented.

'_Is this thing on?'_ the on-screen Doctor asked, tapping on the screen, _'Hello? Ahh, Hello me! If you are getting this message, your watch should be saying 4:15pm and you are near Alcasar 4." _He turned away from the screen, coughing wildly. Once he calmed down a little, he turned back.

"_I believe you have just escaped the Anklo-rthinocerotidae, am I right? Of course I'm right. I'm you." _ He wheezed into his fist._ "Anyway, if or when you get this message, you need to take the Ponds home. Now. Take the Ponds back to Leadworth and take some time away from the TARDIS. Even better, SHUT HER OFF. You know… What to… DO!" _ His wild coughing fit returned, packing a harder punch. He turned away again seeming to inject himself with a green concoction of some sort.

"_Now, I know it sounds ludicrous, but it's the only way to keep them safe. Trust me. Better yet-" _the recording began to fizzle out and the picture distorted slightly, _"Trust __**her**__."_ And with that, the message had finished.

A silence arose in the room, both the human and the Time Lord in a subtle state of shock.

"What was that?" Rory said breaking the silence while scratching his prominent nose, then crossing his arms. His expression clearly showed his disapproval of that message. The Doctor didn't answer; his face was glued to the screen before him. He quickly replayed the message, just to make sure he saw and heard everything correctly.

"That, Rory, was a message from the future. The near future, to be exact. But where did it come-…?" the Doctor pondered, stopping as he noticed something in the upper corner. After rewinding the message and increasing the definition of the picture, his eyes widened. "No… That is quite impossible. No, that is _very much_ impossible!" He turned around, stuffing a fist into his pocket and resting a hand on the back of his neck as he calculated the possibilities of seeing _that _image.

Rory glanced away from the Time Lord as he thought.

"Could it be a fake?"

"Of course not, because I sent it… This is impossible!"

"What's impossible?" Amy chirped from the upper level, toweling her red hair dry. Letting her towel hang on her shoulders, she tugged down the hem of her warm grey oversized sweater. Her red converse tapped lightly on the steps as she descended to the console.

"What's up with you, Doctor?" she glanced quickly at the screen then back at him, "Got your Time Lord knickers in a twist again?" she snickered. Rory quickly filled her in on what she missed. Amy looked again at the screen. The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver in its direction and played the message again.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked after a pause, turning back to the Doctor. He faced the wall, leaning against the railing and gripping it until his knuckles turned white.

"The only thing I can do: Take you home. Go pack your things, Ponds. I'm taking you back to Leadworth." His voice was low and solemn. Rory stepped back, giving the Doctor a concerned look before exiting the room. Amy remained where she stood.

"Who is she, Doctor?" she asked, walking up to the railing and leaning her hip against it. This must be no ordinary woman. Except for River Song, Amy knew the Doctor didn't act like this towards anyone else.

She looked back at the face in the upper right corner of the screen. It was a little distanced from the camera, but readable. It was definitely a woman, she could tell by the long, blonde hair. The shine of two hoop earrings could be made out on either side of her face. Her lips were full and slightly parted. Thick lashes framed one glistening brown eye. Amy knew the other, hidden by a couple stray tresses flowing across her face, was exactly the same. From what she could tell, the mystery woman was very beautiful. She could also see red blotches on her face. So she could only assume that they were the same kind of blisters that were on the future Doctor's face.

The present Doctor didn't reply very quickly. He first took in a deep breath and raised his head, staring blankly at the wall before him.

"She, my dear Amy, is an impossibility, and her name is Rose Tyler."


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Finally chapter two! Sorry for the wait, guys. Lots of stuff has happened, like school projects, and getting a job… The gaps between chapters might yet grow, depending on my job schedule. But fear not! I will write whenever and however I can!

Disclaimer: Again, I don't own Doctor Who. At all. Suuuuuck….

Ian stepped out of the warm coffee shop and into the frigid air outside, slipping his medical mask back over this face. Gripping his long, charcoal-grey jacket closely to him, he looked behind, hoping to see Rose following behind him. Nope. She was chatting it up with the barista behind the counter instead. But it wasn't like he was in a hurry to get back home anymore. Rose had taken him here to calm down after his frantic drawing session. He had protested greatly at first; they didn't need be spending so frivolously when there were bills to be paid.

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his coat, his brown eyes scoping out the street before him. In his right pocket, something small and soft rubbed against his hand. Ian scooped it up and looked at it, smiling warmly at a little velvet box. It had been in his pocket for months because he couldn't trust himself to keep it anywhere else. He flipped the little box open and gazed at the treasure inside.

_This_, most definitely, was _not_ spending frivolously.

"Sorry, I kept you, Ian. We can go now." Rose called out from behind him as she struggled to slip on her black peacoat.

"Wha-?" he mumbled, snapping the box shut and stuffing it back into his deep pocket as he spun around to see her.

"Who was that?" he asked curiously, noticing that she didn't look very happy, despite half of her face being covered with her mask. He knew his Rose well enough. He stepped toward her, taking her cup and setting it down on the table by the entrance. Holding her jacket open, he assisted her in getting it on correctly, then placed her still-hot coffee back into her hand.

"That was Georgia, Shireen's younger sister." Rose answered, pulling out that slouchy white hat (one that she wore almost all the time nowadays) and flopped it back onto her blonde head. "I had to see how she and her family have been doing since," she drew in a deep breath, "since Shireen passed."

Ian's small smile vanished in an instant. He reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace, choosing not to say anything. It had been tough for Rose since the death of her best friend. It had been tough seeing her suffer. He took a moment to be thankful for her pristine health. For all he knew, it could have been her next. The epidemic was unpredictable and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Come on, Rose." He said gently, "Let's go back home." He took her hand and led her across the street, towards a dilapidated yellow Pacer parked just kitty-corner from the café. He couldn't help but chuckle at the piece of junk he had proudly christened 'Bessie II'.

The thought of that car brought back memories of being trapped here on Earth all those years ago. He worked for UNIT then, and he also wore an ungodly amount of ruffles. In a way, he felt like he was reliving those times; well, minus UNIT and all those ruffles. So many ruffles. And the stupid cape.

But there was Rose, who made living chronologically worth every second. Every single bloody second.

He tugged at the handle of the passenger-side door. This old car was pretty finicky and it rarely opened on the first try. He tugged at it a second time, getting it open with a loud squeak, but Rose didn't step in. Almost simultaneously, the couple exchanged disbelieving glances.

They heard that sound.

That one sound of all sounds.

It was the sound that ripped through time and space, through hearts and minds. It was that sound that drew friends near and sent enemies running. It was impossible. It was unforgettable. It was the TARDIS.

Without a second to think, Ian and Rose locked hands and flew down the street, in the direction of that sound. They ran together down seemingly endless blocks. Rose twirled around as she searched high and low with her eyes. She searched up, hoping to see the flash of a light or the familiar box on a rooftop. Ian laid a straight and steady path down the sidewalk, his ears almost in pain as he just listened as he tried to calculate the TARDIS' location. The couple turned left and dashed across the street and ran for a couple more blocks.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" Ian called out, suddenly throwing his arms out and skidding to a stop, causing Rose to accidentally crash into his back. He spun around, laying his hands on Rose's shoulders. He craned his neck down to get a better look into her eyes.

"Stay here." He said softly. He didn't know what he was about to see, but he felt that it was in Rose's best interests that she didn't see it. His judgment was correct. Rose stood there, stiffened with shock. Her eyes stared blankly at the ground far from her and her breathing had hastened.

"Oh God…" she squeaked, fighting back a sob. Rose was _afraid_ to see him. His Rose was never _afraid_. His Rose was normally the fearless type of girl. But that's what _he _does to people. Without saying another word, Ian moved one of his hands onto her cheek and slipped his mask off for a second to press his lips to her forehead. He gave her one more reassuring look before dashing back to the vacant lot they had passed.

Before him the TARDIS materialized, casting bright golden light on everything around him as it broke through the dimension. Slipping his black-framed glasses off, he stepped forward into the lot.

"_What?"_ was all he could ask. The better question really was 'How?' How could this be possible? He knew, he _knew_ that the wall between parallel universes was closed. That was basically the reason he was here. He _knew_ it was supposed to be permanent. He was never supposed to see this blue box again. Yet here it was…

His brown eyes scanned the police box up and down. It was a little wider than he remembered, and a little shorter too. And since when did he have a 'St. Andrews ambulance' sticker on the left door? Ian tilted his head to the side slightly, his face contorted in utter confusion.

The light now faded and it became silent.

_He_ was here.

Suddenly one of those two doors swung open. Ian jumped back a little, but regained his stance. He was still curious to see who was going to step out.

To much of his surprise, the head of a young woman a few years younger than Rose had slipped out. Ian could see fiery red hair atop the young woman's head as the light from streetlamps behind them glowed into the empty lot.

"This isn't Leadworth! The coordinates were wrong again!" she declared in a Scottish brogue, one hand scratching the back of her head. Her eyes darted all directions, studying where she was before stopping and staring at him. The muttering of two other voices could be heard deeper inside the large interior of the TARDIS. After a few quick beats, the gingered girl caught sight of him standing there.

"Ooh… Umm… Hello." she said, her tone brightening and her fingers wiggling to denote a wave. "How long have you been standing there?" her eyes narrowed as she struggled to see Ian in this dark lighting.

"No… How can it be— Nooooo…" he finally muttered after finding his voice again. His eyes widened in excitement, almost like a child on Christmas. "Look at you!" he slipped his glasses on quickly before placing his hands to the pockets of his jeans. "Look at you; ginger _and_ female! The double-whammy! I love it." He figured there would be a gender-change eventually. That lucky bloke was finally ginger now too. Ian felt the deluge of jealousy rush through his mind as he thought of the hundreds of not-ginger years had to suffer through.

The ginger looked a little taken a-back, confusion easily read on her round face. It was then a smooth, male voice with a nasal undertone rang out from behind her:

"Coordinates? Wrong? Nonsense, Amy!" The other door of the TARDIS then flung open and a youngish man swaggered out from behind it. "When I put in coordinates, they are _never_ wrong. Alright, _rarely wrong, _but I am a busy fellow; mistakes are bound to happen. I'm not perfect, you know. At least not _all _the time." He said wagging a finger at the ginger. The girl just shook her head silently.

"Hey you, pretty boy with the mask, where are we?" she asked, looking back at him.

"London, November the 14th, 2011." Ian said shortly.

"See? London, November 14th, 2011." The ginger repeated to the youngish man. The man didn't say a word; instead, he just stared blankly at Ian.

"Funny, she didn't ask you for the date." He finally said, stepping closer to the light behind Ian.

Ian's jaw dropped as he eyed the man up and down. He was not much taller that himself, but he was bow-legged and just as skinny as ever. He was clad in a tweed jacket with leather-patched elbows and trousers that just brushed against his ankles. He whipped back his floppy brown hair and straightened the bowtie fastened around his neck.

"Look at _you_…" Ian murmured, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the man's face. "It's you. Not her, but you." He sauntered closer. This was the man that he saw behind his eyelids. This was the man that he sketched day in and day out. He could smell that Time Lord scent right through the Styrofoam of his mask. Ian smiled; he knew his nose still had it, despite being half human.

"I don't recall _our_ London ever having zeppelins in the sky." The Doctor stared intently at Ian when in a split second, his eyes widened and he stepped back.

"Well," he started, clapping his hands together, "it looks like I did get those coordinates wrong. Good on you, Amy. Now get back into the TARDIS," he said, grabbing his gingered human and shoving her back into the TARDIS, despite her refusal, and shutting the doors behind him. The TARDIS groaned as it ripped back into the time stream and faded into that bright golden light again and out of Pete's World.

Ian was a little taken aback out of confusion and a little bit of shock, but mostly of confusion. A tense silence arose, quickly broken by the sound of Rose's boots, clicking on the sidewalk, then padding on the grass and dirt as she walked over to him.

"He's gone? Just like that?" she asked, looking around the lot for a hint that he might not have left. "I-I don't understand."

After a few silent moments, the groaning of the TARDIS returned. Seeing their elongated shadow in that light, the couple turned around to see the blue box standing behind them, facing the wall to their right. Ian felt Rose slip her hand into his and tighten around his fingers. He knew at any moment now they were going to lose feeling to her tight grip. The doors swung open and The Doctor stepped out once more, sure that he was right this time.

"Ah-HA! There we are!" he exclaimed placing his hands on his hips proudly as he looked at the brick wall before him.

Ian cleared his throat, catching The Doctor's attention. Whipping his head towards the sound, his arms and shoulders dropped. He muttered a few light curses before re-entering the TARDIS and dematerializing yet again, bright light filling the lot for the third time.

This time the TARDIS rematerialized in the corner of the lot, angled to face them. Ian thought to himself as he noticed this bright light appearing between materialization and dematerialization cycles. Was that new like the sticker? The doors swung open for yet a third time. The Doctor didn't exit this time. Only his voice grumbled loudly and cursed the TARDIS' intentions for a moment. The Doctor stepped out, the look of defeat on his face. The ginger girl (named Amy, Ian deduced) and a boyish looking young man with a prominent nose stepped out from behind him, looking just as defeated.

"We're stuck." He muttered, frustrated. As he turned his eyes to the tall man, he noticed there was now a second person standing before him.

At that moment time had halted. The Doctor found himself unable to move. His heartbeats doubled, no, tripled in speed. It was _her…_

"Doctor?" her soft voice questioned. He felt like he had turned into stone at the mention of his name. It cut like a knife, but yet he savored every second of it. It had been over a hundred years since he had seen her face or heard her voice. His blue-green eyes savored every single detail of her appearance. She looked like his Rose, but yet all these smaller, newer details changed her immensely. A small smile began to form on his face. She had grown her hair out; even wore it like how she used to; long, messy, and wonderful blonde waves. Despite the cold, tight air, the scent of her perfume wafted towards his direction. It was the same perfume she had always worn: a tart, fruity scent that faded to a musky sweetness. Her eyes, twinkling in the light of the console room behind him, burned into the very core of his being. Those innocent eyes had seen so much. Memories flooded back as his eyes studied her button nose and full lips. The youthfulness of her face he had grown accustomed to faded, leaving a mature, sophisticated beauty. Her soft cheeks lost all the roundness they once had. The lines that framed her eyes and mouth were slightly more defined than when he last saw her.

She had grown up.

Rose stepped forward, closer to him. If his hearts were beating any faster, he was going to fall over.

"It's you," she said, studying his new face.

"It is indeed." The Doctor managed to squeak out, sounding in more control than what he felt.

"You're the mystery man."

"Well, most people would call me a mystery, and as far as I know, I'm still a man…" He felt that they were not talking about the same subject…

"No, you're Ian's mystery man."

"Ian? Who's Ian—Oh…" The Doctor turned to face his clone again. "Good name, that. I approve. Well done, very well done. Indeed."

"Ian Noble Smith, thank you very much." The clone corrected. The Doctor replied with the raising of his eyebrows and a simple 'Ohh…"

He looked back at Rose, still not believing that she was standing there before him.

"So what did you say about a 'mystery man'?" he continued, bring his hands up and doing that finger-wiggly thing that his body does so often. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ian shift and reach into his jacket pocket. Before he knew it, a small sketchbook was shoved into his face. Upon the paper, he saw a sketch of himself staring back at him.

"So you've taken up drawing? How lovely," he commented, "You got my ears all wrong."

Amy waltzed over to his side. She had _that_ sort of grin on again.

"So, Ian, is it? Amy. Amy Pond." She stated directly towards the tall man in the grey jacket.

"Amy Williams!" Rory corrected quickly. Amy ignored her husband's comment as she thrust her hand out for Ian to shake.

The Doctor glanced quickly as the Ponds got acquainted with his clone. His eyes immediately shot back to Rose. Just staring at her right now was good enough for him.

"You've changed." She said, her brown eyes tracing the angles of his face. He noticed by her posture and her muscle tension that she was fighting back to move any closer, or to even touch him for that matter. It made him somewhat sad. Yes, regenerating can come off as a shock, but he hasn't turned into some sort of monster. At least_ he_ didn't think so.

"And who's to say you haven't?" he replied, his brow furrowing. They remained silent for a while, staring at one another as they listened to Ian, Amy and Rory's conversation.

"You're his… _clone?_" Amy asked flatly.

"But you look nothing like him!" Rory argued.

"You obviously weren't there when he regenerated." Ian said, sounding a bit frustrated, "Look, before he looked like that," he paused for a beat. The Doctor knew exactly what face he was making at that pause. "He looked like this."

"So how come you didn't regenerate?" Amy inquired.

"Because we are separate entities, of course! He can change, I cannot."

"And how did you end up here in an alternate universe?"

The Doctor and Rose agreed to join the conversation, saving Ian from the frustration. Knowing Amy, it'd be better that Rose was there in the conversation with Ian. He didn't blame her though; his past regeneration was quite foxy.

Amy now turned to The Doctor, grasping his arm tightly and pulling him out of earshot of Ian and Rose.

"That's Rose Tyler, isn't it? " she whispered, earning a nod from the Time Lord. "How are we here, when you were trying to get away from this?"

"I've been asking myself those same questions, believe me Amy." The Doctor replied, his eyes not once leaving Rose. "I put in the coordinates for Leadworth in 2011. You can go see for yourself if you'd like—"

"How do you plan to get us out of this when were _stuck_ here?" her teeth clenched. He could see a bit of fear in her eyes. But he was going to get them out of this, he was sure of it.

"Where are our manners?" Ian exclaimed, interrupting Amy and The Doctor's conversation. "Come 'round our place. Rose and I can make a _mean_ cuppa tea. _Well, _I say '_mean_', but I should probably say '_best we can do with cheap tea_'." He paused for a sniff, "Anyway, c'mon, then!"


	4. Author's Note

My dearest readers,

First of all, thanks for reading and reviewing! It's been super encouraging. :)

Since you all probably don't know, this is my first full-length Doctor Who fanfic. Heck, this is my first full-length story I have ever written (and plan to have finished!). Overall this has been quite the trip!

But alas, my fight against the dark powers of disorganization and a busy schedule has been failing.

So as of now, 'Epidemic' will be on temporary hiatus until I can clean up my act. :(

I've been too lax and too disorganized in my writing schedule. As for the plot, I had the beginning and the ending in mind with hopes of the middle appearing magically, but it still remains a wasteland of uncertainty. Again, I'm a new writer and I didn't plan this out as well as I hoped…

But don't cry, friends! This is for the better, I promise! :) I'll have more time to polish up the plot and the upcoming chapters a bit more and really make it all sparkle. I'm setting a strict writing schedule to keep myself going and I am creating a super-sonic brainstorm to get this middle-of-the-plot going.

Don't worry either. 'Epidemic' will be back before you can say "Raxacoricofallapatorius." :)

In the mean time you might see some more Doctor Who fluffs/cracks/drabbles or possibly a Labyrinth piece eventually. This is definitely not the last of The Boisterous Anomaly, I promise you, so keep on the lookout.

Lots of love!

B.A.


End file.
